(no subject)
So, 
synecdochic and I have discovered that, when left alone with the AIM window, we co-write fanfiction.
And, really? Maybe we shouldn't be allowed to be together unsupervised after midnight. Because, uh--this happens.
frostfire_17 (3:00:11 AM): and now Daniel says, in regard to not being a suspect in the curator's death, "I know some...people"
synecdochic (3:02:21 AM): *snerk*
synecdochic (3:02:24 AM): Yes, you do, Dannyboy.
frostfire_17 (3:02:40 AM): I can just see him--"I know a guy who knows a guy"
synecdochic (3:03:12 AM): I have .... connections.
frostfire_17 (3:04:33 AM): I'm hooked up
synecdochic (3:05:21 AM): i'll have my people call your people.
frostfire_17 (3:05:56 AM): I'm going to talk to some people. No, I'm going to talk to some people.
synecdochic (3:06:21 AM): This is even funnier when you remember Evil Overlord Daniel.
frostfire_17 (3:06:36 AM): ha! yes
frostfire_17 (3:06:44 AM): omg, Daniel + Top 100 Things
synecdochic (3:07:06 AM): EVIL OVERLORD DANIEL IS THE BEST THING EVER.
frostfire_17 (3:07:13 AM): YES. YES HE IS.
synecdochic (3:08:51 AM): i'm *so* setting a story in the evil overlord daniel universe.
synecdochic (3:08:55 AM): I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS A DREAM.
frostfire_17 (3:09:15 AM): IT LIVES ON IN THE SPIRITS OF HUNDREDS OF FANGIRLS WITH WET PANTIES
frostfire_17 (3:09:19 AM): *ahem*
synecdochic (3:09:27 AM): YES
synecdochic (3:09:31 AM): because. omg.
frostfire_17 (3:09:35 AM): Evil. Daniel.
synecdochic (3:09:42 AM): UTTERLY CONVINCED he was doing the RIGHT THING.
frostfire_17 (3:09:53 AM): TOTALLY WILLING to destroy everything in his path to get there
synecdochic (3:10:01 AM): BECAUSE IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO
frostfire_17 (3:10:15 AM): I'M SORRY, JACK. YOU DON'T GET IT.
frostfire_17 (3:10:22 AM): IT'S BETTER THIS WAY.
synecdochic (3:11:11 AM): and the story starts right after the dream in the episode ended.
synecdochic (3:11:19 AM): "Daniel had never been to Moscow."
frostfire_17 (3:11:29 AM): nice
synecdochic (3:11:59 AM): and he doesn't let Jack leave
frostfire_17 (3:12:13 AM): oh, yes
synecdochic (3:12:27 AM): because. It's Jack. Jack has never realized before that Daniel shouldn't be underestimated.
synecdochic (3:12:33 AM): Jack has never listened to him.
synecdochic (3:12:35 AM): And it's time Jack did.
synecdochic (3:13:24 AM): And -- if he just manages to make Jack see. Because he knows that Jack could totally be his greatest ally.
synecdochic (3:13:34 AM): All he needs is a little convincing.
synecdochic (3:13:55 AM): It's for your own good, Jack. It's the right thing to do. But you wouldn't be able to see that, would you? You've never been able to think that way.
frostfire_17 (3:14:49 AM): Jack can't see the black and white that Daniel can. Jack is all about shades of gray.
But sometimes it really is that simple, Jack.
synecdochic (3:15:08 AM): You do what you have to do. You do what you need to do. And you can be with me, or you can be against me.
frostfire_17 (3:16:10 AM): And if you're with me--it'll be incredible Jack. It'll be the best thing you've ever done. It'll be glorious.
synecdochic (3:16:18 AM): We'll finally get to fix things.
synecdochic (3:16:29 AM): And -- I want you. I want you there with me. I want you there with me.
frostfire_17 (3:16:57 AM): You have to come, Jack. And if you don't--
synecdochic (3:17:14 AM): And Jack looks up for the first time, and says, "What, you'll kill me?"
frostfire_17 (3:17:32 AM): And Daniel looks him in the eye and says, simply, "Yes."
synecdochic (3:17:46 AM): And Jack believes him.
Because. This is scary. He's never seen Daniel this ... focused. Intent.
Like nothing's distracting him, anymore. None of the little bits and pieces that make up Daniel's distracted stumble through life, no ancient inscriptions, no broken coffeemaker, no statues of phallic symbols. This is Daniel without all the extra stuff whirling around inside his head, and Jack takes back all the times he wished Daniel would clear out some of that crap and focus, because--because.
Because this is terrifying. Absolutely, completely terrifying. Daniel's standing in front of him and Moscow isn't there anymore and somewhere along the line he's lost whatever control he used to have.
Daniel, he's discovering, was that distracted for a reason. Because Daniel distilled down like this, Daniel with only one purpose in mind, is the sort of person who really can rule the world, the sort of person no one can stop. And Jack is going to have to try.
Even if it kills him. Which it very well might. Or, really, even if Daniel kills him, which is suddenly a very real danger, and isn't that a hoot? Because if you surveyed a hundred random SGC personnel, and asked them which member of SG-1 would be the most credible threat to life and limb, Daniel would come in dead last, he'd have staked his -- heh -- life on it.
But SG-1 doesn't exist anymore. And Daniel is waiting for an answer. And Jack is going to have to fool the one person in the world who knows him better than anyone else -- who can read him, effortlessly. Effortlessly.
So he looks at Daniel, square on, because he knows if he drops his eyes it's all over--telltale sign, Jack, where'd you learn to lie?--and says, "Let's go."
Daniel watches him interestedly, like he's a bug on a pin, or maybe an Egyptian scroll or something, given that it's Daniel--and he has to wonder, what happened to the archaeology stuff? Has Daniel just given it up, in favor of ruling the world?--and eventually Daniel smiles and says, "Sure, Jack. I believe that."
Right, and that's it. Jack's going to die, and Daniel's going to rule unopposed, and they're all going to hell, which must have frozen over by now because of all people who would you think would turn evil?
But all Daniel does is make him follow, across the secret underground lair -- Jack supposes it's really called a bunker or something like that, but he knows a secret underground lair when he sees one -- and into the ring circle, and thunk-thunk-thunk, up they go, into the living room, through the hallway, up the stairs -- no servants around, and Jack wonders what happened to them, wonders why nobody thought it was odd that Daniel had servants. But Daniel just walks in front of him, his footsteps neat and precise, his body somehow more relaxed and more tense than Jack's ever seen it before, all at the same time.
Up the stairs, and through the hallways, and Daniel stops at the door to a room. He meets Jack's eyes, fearlessly, flawlessly. "I had this prepared for you," he says. There are lines in his face Jack has never noticed before, tiny grooves that make him look older. They catch the shadows, here, where sunlight doesn't reach. "In case you decided to come for me."
Somewhere in the last year, Daniel's learned how not to give anything away. Jack hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely on those cues. He knows what Daniel wants, though, and he opens the door.
The room has no windows. Daniel doesn't follow him. "I'll know when you really mean it, Jack," Daniel says, and the worst part of it all is that Jack can actually hear the regret in Daniel's voice.
No. Jesus Christ, no. Because he can see the future, he's become fucking prescient, he can see Daniel coming in--at regular intervals, once every three days or what-the-fuck-ever--for the rest of his life, coming in and asking him, "Are you ready?" and Jack lying to him, and Daniel shaking his head and leaving, and Jack stuck in a little box of a room until--
Until he caves. Until being stuck in a little windowless box with Daniel--crazy, insane, evil, beautiful and terrible Daniel--as his only touchstone in the world--
And he snarls, and before he's even realizing what he's doing, he's moving, lunging -- he knows a hundred ways to kill a man with his bare hands, has done this what feels like a thousand times, and he may be old and slow but there are some things you can't forget and there are some desperations that lend you strength. And he and Daniel have known for a long time -- sometimes it feels like always -- that if mercy has to be granted to one of them, it's going to be the other's job.
And Daniel catches him. There are a hundred counters to that move and only one that works, and Daniel's got him pinned against the wall, shoving his face into the drywall, strong and heavy and solid and even now, oh God, beautiful.
"Jack, I really don't want to hurt you," Daniel says, in the worst parody of reasonable Jack's ever heard. And fuck him if he can't tell that it's true; Daniel doesn't want to hurt him, like physical pain is the only kind of pain possible, and Jesus, he can't even break free; it's like Daniel's been turned into the Bionic Man. "Can't you see? I don't want to hurt you. I want you to help me. I need you to help me. This is right; you have to see that."
Daniel's voice is the worst part. It hasn't changed at all. He's heard that tone a thousand times, on what feels like hundreds of planets. Don't shoot, Jack, don't destroy that, Jack, don't leave that, Jack, don't fight them, Jack, Jack, can't you see?
Jack's never been able to see before.
And he can't--how the hell does Jack, don't put their civilization at risk, and Jack, don't destroy this ancient artifact become Jack, I destroyed Moscow and I'm not stopping there.
He's having a hard time understanding this. Maybe he's just slow. But before the last year, he never, ever questioned whether Daniel wanted to the do the right thing. Sometimes it was the stupid thing, sure, and sometimes it was the impossible thing, and sometimes it was the thing that was going to get them in a whole hell of a lot of trouble, but it was never the wrong thing. Ever.
And he got to depending on that, and now that has backfired in his face, because now his brain's all confused, thinking that maybe Daniel's way is the right way after all, the way to fix the world so it's better.
Luckily, no matter what his private opinions are, he's also had plenty of practice with No, Daniel.
"Daniel," he says into the drywall, "you took a wrong turn. Somewhere along the line, you made a bad call, and maybe your head just doesn't know how to figure out it isn't doing the right thing," because it never had any fucking practice before it got thrown into--oh, forget the deep end of the pool, the fucking Marianas Trench--"but you have to listen to me. You are not doing the right thing. The thing you are doing is wrong. Think about the ends justifying the means. You never believed that before."
"No," Daniel says, and oh, butter wouldn't melt in his goddamn mouth, "I suppose I didn't, did I? But you did. You kept trying to tell me. Kept trying to show me that there were times when you had to think of what's best for everyone, not just what's best for one or two people. And I never understood it before, did I?" Slow, contemplative, like each sentence is a progressive revelation. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I know what it must have been like to have to deal with me always on your back about things like that."
There's a flutter on the back of Jack's neck, and oh, God, it's Daniel's lips. "I'm sorry," Daniel breathes, and rests his forehead where his lips just touched. "I'm saying this all wrong, I know I am. But I can make things better, Jack. We can make things better. We're never going to have to live in fear again. That's what I want. What I want for us. What I want for you."
Daniel really shouldn't sound so reasonable.
And he shouldn't--that's his mouth again. Jack closes his eyes. "Daniel, what the hell are you doing?"
"I should have a line, here," Daniel muses. "Something like, but that's not all I want, Jack." His tongue flickers out, quick and wet and gone instantly, leaving a cold spot on the back of Jack's neck. "Language is such a funny thing, don't you think, Jack? I spent my entire life studying words in their various permutations, and I spent years at the SGC trying to convince you and Hammond and the NID and God, using words. But I've realized, finally," and he pauses for a second, and kisses Jack's neck for real this time, ending just up behind his ear, "that words are really just a tool. Action. Actions are what I should have been using all along." He hasn't let up his hold. Hasn't done anything with his hands at all, probably knowing for-damn-well-sure that Jack would take advantage of any opportunity--
He draws in his breath and hates himself for it, when Daniel's tongue darts up around his ear.
"Words only mean what you let them mean. Right, Jack?"
And those are teeth, nipping at his earlobe, and damn him for knowing. Knowing.
"Right, Jack?" Daniel breathes against his skin, and Jack closes his eyes, because this isn't happening. This. Is. Just. Not. Happening. Daniel's not an evil overlord and Moscow isn't gone and he, Jack O'Neill, is most decidedly not fucking hard.
"I could tell you," says Daniel, "that I'm going to let you go. And I could tell you that you're free to go. But that wouldn't change anything, and five minutes later you'd still be here. Do you want me to tell you what I'd be doing to you?"
Yes. "No," he says, rough and hard. "Daniel --"
Maybe Daniel's learned how to read minds, too. "I want to touch you, Jack. Do you know how long I've wanted to touch you? Lay you out on the bed and strip you, slowly, piece by piece. An inch at a time. I want to see your skin, want to touch your skin. Touch you. I used to think about it. Hours and hours, alone in my apartment, replaying every little flash, every tease, every time when I dropped my eyes too slowly or looked away too late. And I'd touch myself, exactly the way I'd think about touching you. Just two fingers at first. Over your collarbone. Over your chest. Softly. Slowly. A piece at a time, putting them all together, like --fragments of a puzzle. Of a treasure. Except it'd be so much more than just a treasure, Jack. It would be you."
Daniel's voice is hypnotic, rhythmic, like it's got the hint of deserts and the beats of languages Jack doesn't even know behind it.
And he has to stay with it--he just heard Daniel say it, get a grip, O'Neill, language is Daniel's tool. And it's one he's got oh-so-much experience with, and he's way better at talking than you are at--anything--so you need to--
Get him to stop talking.
Daniel's being true to his word, loosening his hands, while his mouth wanders around Jack's neck and whispers sun-drenched apartment fantasies into his ears, and Daniel was right, Jack isn't going to leave. And if he lets this go on for one more sentence, he's going to be on his knees.
So he twists in Daniel's grip, sudden and hard--and Daniel lets him, doesn't try to stop him, like he saw it coming when Jack knows he hadn't given any kind of signal--and tilts his head back and opens his mouth to Jack's.
And this is it. If Jack had thought Daniel was focused before -- well, he was. Is. But this is something beyond focus, beyond focusing, this is raw distilled 200-proof essence-of-Daniel right here. Sharp and bright, like a bullet, like a scythe, and Daniel kisses with his eyes closed and his mouth open and every fucking millimeter of his attention on Jack's mouth. On Jack. And Jack whimpers in the back of his throat, because this isn't how it was supposed to be. This was never how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to wait until they were done, wait until it was all over, and there was supposed to be a nice house in a nice neighborhood in a nice open-minded community and they were supposed to do this right.
This isn't right. This is ten thousand shades of wrong, the way Daniel is leaning into him, opening for him, inviting him, controlling him. And Daniel wants him, and Daniel? Daniel has learned to get what he wants.
Daniel isn't even holding him back anymore. Jack could leave.
Daniel doesn't want him to.
And so he won't. Because that's his life, now.
Across the world, Moscow is burning.
It's all right. Jack never really liked Russia much anyway.
synecdochic and I have discovered that, when left alone with the AIM window, we co-write fanfiction.
And, really? Maybe we shouldn't be allowed to be together unsupervised after midnight. Because, uh--this happens.
frostfire_17 (3:00:11 AM): and now Daniel says, in regard to not being a suspect in the curator's death, "I know some...people"
synecdochic (3:02:21 AM): *snerk*
synecdochic (3:02:24 AM): Yes, you do, Dannyboy.
frostfire_17 (3:02:40 AM): I can just see him--"I know a guy who knows a guy"
synecdochic (3:03:12 AM): I have .... connections.
frostfire_17 (3:04:33 AM): I'm hooked up
synecdochic (3:05:21 AM): i'll have my people call your people.
frostfire_17 (3:05:56 AM): I'm going to talk to some people. No, I'm going to talk to some people.
synecdochic (3:06:21 AM): This is even funnier when you remember Evil Overlord Daniel.
frostfire_17 (3:06:36 AM): ha! yes
frostfire_17 (3:06:44 AM): omg, Daniel + Top 100 Things
synecdochic (3:07:06 AM): EVIL OVERLORD DANIEL IS THE BEST THING EVER.
frostfire_17 (3:07:13 AM): YES. YES HE IS.
synecdochic (3:08:51 AM): i'm *so* setting a story in the evil overlord daniel universe.
synecdochic (3:08:55 AM): I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS A DREAM.
frostfire_17 (3:09:15 AM): IT LIVES ON IN THE SPIRITS OF HUNDREDS OF FANGIRLS WITH WET PANTIES
frostfire_17 (3:09:19 AM): *ahem*
synecdochic (3:09:27 AM): YES
synecdochic (3:09:31 AM): because. omg.
frostfire_17 (3:09:35 AM): Evil. Daniel.
synecdochic (3:09:42 AM): UTTERLY CONVINCED he was doing the RIGHT THING.
frostfire_17 (3:09:53 AM): TOTALLY WILLING to destroy everything in his path to get there
synecdochic (3:10:01 AM): BECAUSE IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO
frostfire_17 (3:10:15 AM): I'M SORRY, JACK. YOU DON'T GET IT.
frostfire_17 (3:10:22 AM): IT'S BETTER THIS WAY.
synecdochic (3:11:11 AM): and the story starts right after the dream in the episode ended.
synecdochic (3:11:19 AM): "Daniel had never been to Moscow."
frostfire_17 (3:11:29 AM): nice
synecdochic (3:11:59 AM): and he doesn't let Jack leave
frostfire_17 (3:12:13 AM): oh, yes
synecdochic (3:12:27 AM): because. It's Jack. Jack has never realized before that Daniel shouldn't be underestimated.
synecdochic (3:12:33 AM): Jack has never listened to him.
synecdochic (3:12:35 AM): And it's time Jack did.
synecdochic (3:13:24 AM): And -- if he just manages to make Jack see. Because he knows that Jack could totally be his greatest ally.
synecdochic (3:13:34 AM): All he needs is a little convincing.
synecdochic (3:13:55 AM): It's for your own good, Jack. It's the right thing to do. But you wouldn't be able to see that, would you? You've never been able to think that way.
frostfire_17 (3:14:49 AM): Jack can't see the black and white that Daniel can. Jack is all about shades of gray.
But sometimes it really is that simple, Jack.
synecdochic (3:15:08 AM): You do what you have to do. You do what you need to do. And you can be with me, or you can be against me.
frostfire_17 (3:16:10 AM): And if you're with me--it'll be incredible Jack. It'll be the best thing you've ever done. It'll be glorious.
synecdochic (3:16:18 AM): We'll finally get to fix things.
synecdochic (3:16:29 AM): And -- I want you. I want you there with me. I want you there with me.
frostfire_17 (3:16:57 AM): You have to come, Jack. And if you don't--
synecdochic (3:17:14 AM): And Jack looks up for the first time, and says, "What, you'll kill me?"
frostfire_17 (3:17:32 AM): And Daniel looks him in the eye and says, simply, "Yes."
synecdochic (3:17:46 AM): And Jack believes him.
Because. This is scary. He's never seen Daniel this ... focused. Intent.
Like nothing's distracting him, anymore. None of the little bits and pieces that make up Daniel's distracted stumble through life, no ancient inscriptions, no broken coffeemaker, no statues of phallic symbols. This is Daniel without all the extra stuff whirling around inside his head, and Jack takes back all the times he wished Daniel would clear out some of that crap and focus, because--because.
Because this is terrifying. Absolutely, completely terrifying. Daniel's standing in front of him and Moscow isn't there anymore and somewhere along the line he's lost whatever control he used to have.
Daniel, he's discovering, was that distracted for a reason. Because Daniel distilled down like this, Daniel with only one purpose in mind, is the sort of person who really can rule the world, the sort of person no one can stop. And Jack is going to have to try.
Even if it kills him. Which it very well might. Or, really, even if Daniel kills him, which is suddenly a very real danger, and isn't that a hoot? Because if you surveyed a hundred random SGC personnel, and asked them which member of SG-1 would be the most credible threat to life and limb, Daniel would come in dead last, he'd have staked his -- heh -- life on it.
But SG-1 doesn't exist anymore. And Daniel is waiting for an answer. And Jack is going to have to fool the one person in the world who knows him better than anyone else -- who can read him, effortlessly. Effortlessly.
So he looks at Daniel, square on, because he knows if he drops his eyes it's all over--telltale sign, Jack, where'd you learn to lie?--and says, "Let's go."
Daniel watches him interestedly, like he's a bug on a pin, or maybe an Egyptian scroll or something, given that it's Daniel--and he has to wonder, what happened to the archaeology stuff? Has Daniel just given it up, in favor of ruling the world?--and eventually Daniel smiles and says, "Sure, Jack. I believe that."
Right, and that's it. Jack's going to die, and Daniel's going to rule unopposed, and they're all going to hell, which must have frozen over by now because of all people who would you think would turn evil?
But all Daniel does is make him follow, across the secret underground lair -- Jack supposes it's really called a bunker or something like that, but he knows a secret underground lair when he sees one -- and into the ring circle, and thunk-thunk-thunk, up they go, into the living room, through the hallway, up the stairs -- no servants around, and Jack wonders what happened to them, wonders why nobody thought it was odd that Daniel had servants. But Daniel just walks in front of him, his footsteps neat and precise, his body somehow more relaxed and more tense than Jack's ever seen it before, all at the same time.
Up the stairs, and through the hallways, and Daniel stops at the door to a room. He meets Jack's eyes, fearlessly, flawlessly. "I had this prepared for you," he says. There are lines in his face Jack has never noticed before, tiny grooves that make him look older. They catch the shadows, here, where sunlight doesn't reach. "In case you decided to come for me."
Somewhere in the last year, Daniel's learned how not to give anything away. Jack hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely on those cues. He knows what Daniel wants, though, and he opens the door.
The room has no windows. Daniel doesn't follow him. "I'll know when you really mean it, Jack," Daniel says, and the worst part of it all is that Jack can actually hear the regret in Daniel's voice.
No. Jesus Christ, no. Because he can see the future, he's become fucking prescient, he can see Daniel coming in--at regular intervals, once every three days or what-the-fuck-ever--for the rest of his life, coming in and asking him, "Are you ready?" and Jack lying to him, and Daniel shaking his head and leaving, and Jack stuck in a little box of a room until--
Until he caves. Until being stuck in a little windowless box with Daniel--crazy, insane, evil, beautiful and terrible Daniel--as his only touchstone in the world--
And he snarls, and before he's even realizing what he's doing, he's moving, lunging -- he knows a hundred ways to kill a man with his bare hands, has done this what feels like a thousand times, and he may be old and slow but there are some things you can't forget and there are some desperations that lend you strength. And he and Daniel have known for a long time -- sometimes it feels like always -- that if mercy has to be granted to one of them, it's going to be the other's job.
And Daniel catches him. There are a hundred counters to that move and only one that works, and Daniel's got him pinned against the wall, shoving his face into the drywall, strong and heavy and solid and even now, oh God, beautiful.
"Jack, I really don't want to hurt you," Daniel says, in the worst parody of reasonable Jack's ever heard. And fuck him if he can't tell that it's true; Daniel doesn't want to hurt him, like physical pain is the only kind of pain possible, and Jesus, he can't even break free; it's like Daniel's been turned into the Bionic Man. "Can't you see? I don't want to hurt you. I want you to help me. I need you to help me. This is right; you have to see that."
Daniel's voice is the worst part. It hasn't changed at all. He's heard that tone a thousand times, on what feels like hundreds of planets. Don't shoot, Jack, don't destroy that, Jack, don't leave that, Jack, don't fight them, Jack, Jack, can't you see?
Jack's never been able to see before.
And he can't--how the hell does Jack, don't put their civilization at risk, and Jack, don't destroy this ancient artifact become Jack, I destroyed Moscow and I'm not stopping there.
He's having a hard time understanding this. Maybe he's just slow. But before the last year, he never, ever questioned whether Daniel wanted to the do the right thing. Sometimes it was the stupid thing, sure, and sometimes it was the impossible thing, and sometimes it was the thing that was going to get them in a whole hell of a lot of trouble, but it was never the wrong thing. Ever.
And he got to depending on that, and now that has backfired in his face, because now his brain's all confused, thinking that maybe Daniel's way is the right way after all, the way to fix the world so it's better.
Luckily, no matter what his private opinions are, he's also had plenty of practice with No, Daniel.
"Daniel," he says into the drywall, "you took a wrong turn. Somewhere along the line, you made a bad call, and maybe your head just doesn't know how to figure out it isn't doing the right thing," because it never had any fucking practice before it got thrown into--oh, forget the deep end of the pool, the fucking Marianas Trench--"but you have to listen to me. You are not doing the right thing. The thing you are doing is wrong. Think about the ends justifying the means. You never believed that before."
"No," Daniel says, and oh, butter wouldn't melt in his goddamn mouth, "I suppose I didn't, did I? But you did. You kept trying to tell me. Kept trying to show me that there were times when you had to think of what's best for everyone, not just what's best for one or two people. And I never understood it before, did I?" Slow, contemplative, like each sentence is a progressive revelation. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I know what it must have been like to have to deal with me always on your back about things like that."
There's a flutter on the back of Jack's neck, and oh, God, it's Daniel's lips. "I'm sorry," Daniel breathes, and rests his forehead where his lips just touched. "I'm saying this all wrong, I know I am. But I can make things better, Jack. We can make things better. We're never going to have to live in fear again. That's what I want. What I want for us. What I want for you."
Daniel really shouldn't sound so reasonable.
And he shouldn't--that's his mouth again. Jack closes his eyes. "Daniel, what the hell are you doing?"
"I should have a line, here," Daniel muses. "Something like, but that's not all I want, Jack." His tongue flickers out, quick and wet and gone instantly, leaving a cold spot on the back of Jack's neck. "Language is such a funny thing, don't you think, Jack? I spent my entire life studying words in their various permutations, and I spent years at the SGC trying to convince you and Hammond and the NID and God, using words. But I've realized, finally," and he pauses for a second, and kisses Jack's neck for real this time, ending just up behind his ear, "that words are really just a tool. Action. Actions are what I should have been using all along." He hasn't let up his hold. Hasn't done anything with his hands at all, probably knowing for-damn-well-sure that Jack would take advantage of any opportunity--
He draws in his breath and hates himself for it, when Daniel's tongue darts up around his ear.
"Words only mean what you let them mean. Right, Jack?"
And those are teeth, nipping at his earlobe, and damn him for knowing. Knowing.
"Right, Jack?" Daniel breathes against his skin, and Jack closes his eyes, because this isn't happening. This. Is. Just. Not. Happening. Daniel's not an evil overlord and Moscow isn't gone and he, Jack O'Neill, is most decidedly not fucking hard.
"I could tell you," says Daniel, "that I'm going to let you go. And I could tell you that you're free to go. But that wouldn't change anything, and five minutes later you'd still be here. Do you want me to tell you what I'd be doing to you?"
Yes. "No," he says, rough and hard. "Daniel --"
Maybe Daniel's learned how to read minds, too. "I want to touch you, Jack. Do you know how long I've wanted to touch you? Lay you out on the bed and strip you, slowly, piece by piece. An inch at a time. I want to see your skin, want to touch your skin. Touch you. I used to think about it. Hours and hours, alone in my apartment, replaying every little flash, every tease, every time when I dropped my eyes too slowly or looked away too late. And I'd touch myself, exactly the way I'd think about touching you. Just two fingers at first. Over your collarbone. Over your chest. Softly. Slowly. A piece at a time, putting them all together, like --fragments of a puzzle. Of a treasure. Except it'd be so much more than just a treasure, Jack. It would be you."
Daniel's voice is hypnotic, rhythmic, like it's got the hint of deserts and the beats of languages Jack doesn't even know behind it.
And he has to stay with it--he just heard Daniel say it, get a grip, O'Neill, language is Daniel's tool. And it's one he's got oh-so-much experience with, and he's way better at talking than you are at--anything--so you need to--
Get him to stop talking.
Daniel's being true to his word, loosening his hands, while his mouth wanders around Jack's neck and whispers sun-drenched apartment fantasies into his ears, and Daniel was right, Jack isn't going to leave. And if he lets this go on for one more sentence, he's going to be on his knees.
So he twists in Daniel's grip, sudden and hard--and Daniel lets him, doesn't try to stop him, like he saw it coming when Jack knows he hadn't given any kind of signal--and tilts his head back and opens his mouth to Jack's.
And this is it. If Jack had thought Daniel was focused before -- well, he was. Is. But this is something beyond focus, beyond focusing, this is raw distilled 200-proof essence-of-Daniel right here. Sharp and bright, like a bullet, like a scythe, and Daniel kisses with his eyes closed and his mouth open and every fucking millimeter of his attention on Jack's mouth. On Jack. And Jack whimpers in the back of his throat, because this isn't how it was supposed to be. This was never how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to wait until they were done, wait until it was all over, and there was supposed to be a nice house in a nice neighborhood in a nice open-minded community and they were supposed to do this right.
This isn't right. This is ten thousand shades of wrong, the way Daniel is leaning into him, opening for him, inviting him, controlling him. And Daniel wants him, and Daniel? Daniel has learned to get what he wants.
Daniel isn't even holding him back anymore. Jack could leave.
Daniel doesn't want him to.
And so he won't. Because that's his life, now.
Across the world, Moscow is burning.
It's all right. Jack never really liked Russia much anyway.